Dream Lover
by linlawless
Summary: Jason and Elizabeth have never met ... except in their dreams ...


_A/N: Thanks to Atuliel for supplying the gorgeous banner prompt for this fic! If you want to see it, it's posted at my site, which you can get to by checking my profile (I would post the link here, but they don't let you do that). I also put the link directly to the image into my profile at the suggestion of a reader (Thanks, EpsiLone!). Thanks in advance for your feedback!  
_

"Help me," the woman whispered. "Please help me. Save my baby. Please. I can't hold on much longer …"

As the voice faded, Jason woke in a cold sweat, for the fourth time in as many hours. Glancing around in the silence, he could feel his heart beating wildly, urging him to _get up! Move now!_

He could still hear the echoes of her voice in his head, could still see the beautiful face that had been haunting his dreams since the moment he fell asleep last night. He had never seen the woman before – except in other dreams that he had had over the years. Or so he was told.

He had dreamt of her for the first time when he was a teenager – in those dreams, she had been a child, several years younger than he was. Sometimes, she was crying, sometimes, laughing, sometimes, neither, but always, he was struck by how alone she seemed. Even when she wasn't technically alone – even when there were other people around her in whatever dream he was having. He had seen her at what looked like her sister's birthday party, sitting unnoticed in a corner in a drooping party dress. Then she had appeared in school, staring dreamily out a window while the teacher wrote math equations on the blackboard. Another time, she had been giggling with another girl – a girlfriend, perhaps?

A few years ago, he had been in an accident that had nearly killed him. In fact, the doctors said he had been in a coma for months. But that wasn't what it had seemed like to him. Instead, when they said he was unconscious and not responsive, he had been deep in an alternate world – a world where he and the woman of his dreams (literally) had been dating, then married, then parents.

When he woke up and no one could ever remember seeing the woman before, and they insisted he had never been married or even in love, he had been so angry – so _devastated_ – that he had turned his back on everyone he had ever known.

Because he didn't remember any of them – he only remembered _her_. And he didn't want to be with any of them. He wanted her and their children and the life he had lived in his dream.

And as soon as he could get away from them all, he had bought a motorcycle and started roaming far and wide, hoping, always hoping, that he would find her in _this _world, too. That he would somehow, someway, find her somewhere besides his dreams.

He still saw her sometimes, deep in the night. And whenever he did, he would try to talk to her – to ask her where he should look – where he might find her. But unlike the time when he was in his "coma", she never seemed to hear him. She never responded at all, and over time, after a number of occasions when he would have flashbacks to the dreams he had had of her before his accident, he had realized that this was how he had dreamed of her back then. In the dreams, she was always out of reach – just beyond his grasp.

Now, nearly three years had passed since the accident, with him dreaming of her at unpredictable intervals – sometimes every night for a week, others not at all for a month or more. He had finally begun to accept that he might never find her, and he had occasionally, over the years, dated other women. He had started with a petite brunette like her, who had turned out to be awfully self-righteous and had left when he refused to change his life to fit her rules. Then, maybe in an effort to avoid the same outcome, he had gone for a couple of blonde bimboes in succession. The first, at least, had been street-smart, but she had turned out to be a conniving bitch, so he had dumped her for a dumb blonde, only to discover that _she_ bored him to tears.

Lately, he had given up dating completely. Now, he just occasionally slept with a bar bunny that he had met at Jake's, but he made it very clear to her that he had no intention of ever doing more than using her to scratch an itch he sometimes got.

He didn't consciously go looking for his dream lover anymore, but part of him always had an eye out, scanning any area he was in, just in case this was the time he would see her. He couldn't live with the idea that he would cross paths with her and somehow miss it. It was hard enough living with the possibility that she was out there somewhere, and he was failing to go where she was, or worse, that she was entirely imaginary and he would never find her no matter how hard he looked.

Now, with the echoes of her desperate voice ringing in his ears, he tried to think whether he had ever dreamt of her more than once in the same night before. He didn't think so. Also, he usually wasn't awakened by these dreams – he would just wake up in the morning and he would know, with crystal clarity, exactly what she had been doing and thinking and feeling in his dream the night before.

And finally, this time, she had seemed to be looking at him – speaking to him. Not like in the rest of his dreams, but more like the "coma" dream. He wondered why things were different this time.

_She needs you. She really needs you to save her._

The voice in his head, unbidden and unfamiliar, but so insistent, made him realize that he wouldn't get any more sleep that night, anyway, so he might as well ride out and look for his dream girl. Decision made, he got out of bed and pulled on some clothes.

_Quickly,_ the voice urged, _There isn't much time left. She needs you._

Grabbing his keys, he ran out the door like the devil was chasing him.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Elizabeth shivered uncontrollably in the damp chill. She had been here for what seemed like hours, but it could have been as little as half an hour or as much as nine or ten hours for all she knew. She had no watch, no phone, nothing to tell her what time it was, and she had been fading in and out of consciousness. She knew that because she had seen _him. _

The man of her daydreams. She had been scolded more than once for daydreaming in class when she was a little girl – and always, when she did, he had been the subject of her fantasy life. She had no idea if he was real – she suspected not, because he had been her imaginary friend in her earliest memories. A somewhat older boy – closer to her brother's age than hers, actually – she had always known him as her hero, her protector. Whenever she felt most alone, she would stare into space, using the soft focus that always brought his image to mind, and she would feel better.

Then, one night three years ago, the worst night of her life had happened. She had been walking home through the park, and out of nowhere, a man – no, an _animal_ – had attacked her, raped her, and beaten her nearly to death. She thought he must have believed she _was_ dead, because although she had few memories of that night, she somehow knew she had seen his intention to kill her in his eyes.

For the next several months, she was told, she had been in a coma, and she supposed she believed it, because really, who would lie about something like that? Her family didn't really love her, but they wouldn't bother making up an elaborate lie like that.

But to her, those months in the coma were the most real, the most wonderful time of her life, because she had finally met _him_ – her dream man. And he had loved her, and she had loved him. They had had a beautiful wedding, and children, and they had been so happy together.

Oh, she understood, now, that it couldn't have been real – if nothing else, because the months that she had lost didn't add up to the number of years she had lived with him in her mind. So she knew that none of it had been real.

But still, she hoped that _he _was – that he would find her, and they would finally be together like they were in those too-short months. Since she had woken up, her daydreams had returned to the type she had had growing up. In those, he was _in_ her life, but _not_. He was more like a wish than a real presence, and she had come to accept that she could no longer talk with him or be with him as she once had.

Now, in the wee hours of the night, she had been lapsing in and out of consciousness, and for the first time since she had woken from her coma, she had been sure she could talk to him again, that he would hear her again. She had so hoped that he would come and save her.

But hours had passed, and maybe it was time to accept that he wasn't coming – that no one was coming.

That she and her baby would die here in the cold.

She felt tears trickle down her cheeks as she thought about the likelihood that her baby would never be born. The baby that she had once thought a mistake – the baby that had resulted from trying to get on with her life and accept that he wasn't real and she would never find him, and that she had to at least _try_ to find someone else to love.

So she had started dating. And eventually, she had let one of her charming dates talk her into bed, but the whole time, she had felt like she was still married – was cheating on her husband, even if he didn't really exist. And only _after_ all of that had she discovered that while _she _felt guilty when she wasn't really cheating, her date _didn't_ feel guilty, even though he _was._

So she had dumped him, vowing to wait to find her dream man, or never date again, whichever came first. The creep had not taken it well. Apparently, no one had ever dumped him before, and he couldn't take the blow to his ego. He had begun stalking her.

And then she had learned she was pregnant. She had feared that she would never be free of him if he found out, so she had run.

And she had been running ever since. Until tonight, when her luck had run out all at once. First, she had looked out the window of her tiny apartment in Buffalo, New York, and seen him step out of a car across the street. She had hoped she was wrong, that it wasn't really him, but once he had started walking, she had known for sure. She would recognize that swagger anywhere.

So she had grabbed what she could fit in a single bag, trying to take everything personal in hopes that he wouldn't be sure it was her, but knowing he probably had pictures anyway. And despite the awkwardness of her very pregnant belly, she had climbed out the window and hurried down the fire escape and nearly run the two blocks to where she had parked her car, and she had run away again.

And now, here she was, hours later, with her car broken down on the side of a back road in the middle of nowhere, New York. Alone, pregnant, tired, hungry, dehydrated, and she thought maybe she had hit her head in the accident, considering how she was fading in and out of consciousness.

_Well,_ she thought ruefully, as she drifted away again, _At least when I'm unconscious, I get to see my dream man. So I guess we'll be with him when we die …_

XXXXXXXXXXX

Jason couldn't shake the sense of urgency as he rode the cliff roads. He had to find her. He knew it in his bones. This was his only opportunity, and if he didn't get to her in time, she would be gone forever. He wouldn't even dream of her anymore.

He had no idea how he knew this, but he was absolutely certain it was true. Why hadn't he gotten up after the first dream? Why hadn't he immediately realized that she was out there, needing him?

_Where are you? _ he thought in frustration. _I need to know where you are, so I can help you._

He was stunned when he heard her voice in reply. _I don't know where I am. I would tell you if I could, but I just don't know._

He was too stunned to think for a few moments, but then he decided to try again. _What do you remember? Where were you the last time you knew where you were?_

_I – I left Buffalo this morning, and I started driving east … the car broke down. I'm in the middle of nowhere …_

_Did you see any road signs? Anything at all?_

_I don't know … I don't remember. _He knew she was frowning from the edge in her voice, so he decided to calm her down.

_It's okay, sweetheart, just relax. I'll find you, I promise. Now, I need you to hold on – stay strong and hang in there until I get there. _Jason gunned the engine, picking up speed. He knew she was nearby – he could feel her.

_I – I don't know if I can, my love. I'm so cold, so tired._

Her voice was losing strength, but it was getting clearer, so he knew he had to be getting close. _Do it for me, _he insisted. _Do it for our baby. I'm almost there._

_Our baby? _ she asked, sounding confused and near tears. _But – but this is __**his**__ baby. I'm so sorry – I should have waited for you._

_Don't worry about that now, sweetheart. It's __**our**__ baby, no matter who provided the DNA. And you're here now, and you just need to hang on until I find you. Now, have you thought of anything else? What was around you when you stopped?_

_I – think I was driving along some cliffs, and the car broke down, so I pulled over by a gate – like the kind you would see on a driveway to a mansion. I thought maybe somebody lived there, but now I think it's deserted._

_Hallelujah! _

He felt her strength increase at his jubilation. _You – you know it?_

_Yes, _he smiled, _I used to ride out there all the time looking for you._

_You've been looking for me? Really?_

_Of course I have – I love you. I __**need**__ you._

_I love you, too. When will you be here?_

_Five minutes, sweetheart. No more than five minutes._

He gunned the engine again.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Elizabeth gradually became aware of the sound of a motorcycle approaching, pulling her from unconsciousness. In the distance, she heard a siren, so maybe he had called an ambulance. He had known that she was losing strength.

Her car door opened, and she felt him lean in. His voice came more clearly than it had all night. "Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes. Please open those baby blues for me. Please? Show me that I got here in time. I need you to wake up so we can start our life together."

She was terrified that if she opened her eyes, he would fade away again, so she resisted. She whispered, "How do I know you're really here? How do I know you won't disappear if I open my eyes? How do I know …"

He stopped her by touching his lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, then finally opened her eyes when he drew back and said, "I'm here. I promise. And I'm not going anywhere without you, not ever."

She heard the ambulance pull to a stop nearby, and the voices of the paramedics as they approached the car. She reached up to touch his face. "You're really here …" She traced the face that was so familiar and yet so new with trembling fingers. Her smile was radiant. "My hero. My love," she sighed.

He clasped her hand in his, never letting go even as he stepped back to let the paramedics do their work. As they wheeled her to the ambulance, he leaned close and whispered, "My dream come true."


End file.
